Two Perspectives
by Ninety Three
Summary: The same story, viewed from two different perspectives. Both the trainer and the Pokémon.


The same story, viewed from two different perspectives.

The annual tournament was here again. The best of the trainers would once again gather together, ready to parade their Pokémon in a battle showcasing talent, hard work and discipline. The Pokémon battling were one with their master, obeying every command with iron discipline, mastering the thoughts and feelings of their trainer well enough to read his or her intentions and thus being able to work together as a single entity. During battles, the Pokémon were always silent, staring at their opponent with utmost concentration and determination. They never let their own emotions get in the way; their sole purpose was to bring victory to their trainer, and they would fight to the end for that glory.

The judges and officials overlooking the battle saw the discipline of the trained Pokémon and their honed skills, nodding in approval as they watched them execute flawless attacks and evade any counters with grace and speed. Some merely took the hit without complain and simply fought back. Some dodged and weaved their way through attacks, looking for an opening. The judges saw only one quality within the Pokémon; their discipline. To them, it was the true mark of a powerful Pokémon. The Pokémon trained to be disciplined was the one that would emerge victorious. They believed that with the full concentration on the battle, their minds focused only on victory, would the Pokémon truly be able to defeat its opponent.

"Aerial Ace, Fearow!" a trainer yelled at his Fearow, clearly beaten and exhausted. The Fearow, no matter how badly injured or tired, would not let up, glaring icily at its calm opponent, a Kirlia. With an unnatural burst of speed, the Fearow had caught up with its target, dealing a quick slash with its beak. The judges nodded, noticing the Fearow's speed and power.

The Kirlia may not have possessed the same speed as its opponent; however, it had powers to open portals into separate dimensions, thus allowing it to travel virtually anywhere. Using that psychic power, Kirlia teleported away from Fearow, appearing behind it. Ice formed around her delicate fist as she prepared to deal the finishing blow. Without missing a beat, Fearow made its own move even as its trainer opened his mouth. As the words "Pursuit" formed on his lips, Fearow seemingly teleported along with Kirlia, appearing behind it and smashing full force into its back. With a startled cry, the Kirlia fell, and victory went to the Fearow. The judges nodded, noticing the Fearow's understanding of its trainer.

As the delighted trainer yelled in joy and punched the air, he offered no words for his Fearow; none of praise or of encouragement. He simply recalled his valiant Pokémon back into its Pokéball and basked in the glory of his Fearow's win. Fearow was recalled back by a beam of red light; even then, it showed no sign of emotion. The judges nodded, noticing the Fearow's discipline.

The Fearow had claimed victory in a surreal manner. It knew what its trainer wanted it to do. It was trained so much it could predict its trainer's commands. It had, ironically, mastered its master.

The same story, viewed from two different perspectives.

The words "Aerial Ace" ran through the Fearow's brain. It meant only one thing to the trained bird of prey. Speed and power, combined into one elegant move. Using that formula, Fearow put on a burst of lightning speed to pummel into its opponent, a Kirlia, beak extended as an impact point. The Fearow's eyes showed only one meaning; obey and kill. With that mentality, the Fearow listened to whatever his trainer ordered. Aerial Ace. It had been performed, and Fearow saw the judges nodding.

Suddenly, Kirlia disappeared into thin air. Being a predator, Fearow was equipped with an unfair advantage over its prey; the ability to follow suit, and to lay the surprise, and often killing, blow. Before its trainer could even open his mouth, Fearow knew the word that would soon be uttered. Pursuit. It was one the Fearow had heard many times, and it was ready to execute it. Disappearing just like Kirlia had done, Fearow evaded the coming Ice Punch and dealt a swift and unseen blow to his opponent. Job done, even as its trainer completed the last syllable of the command. The judges were nodding again.

Fearow saw its trainer in raptures, it saw the familiar happiness in his eyes, but he did not understand it. All the predator knew was that its job was to kill for its trainer, although for what reason, it was unfathomable to the Fearow. As it felt the familiar sensation of the Pokéball sucking it back into its prison, there was nothing given away from its eyes, only a cold glint that was always there; a glint of resignation masked by determination.

Fearow was no longer a predator; it was no longer the soaring bird in the sky awaiting its next victim. Fearow was now a prisoner. There would be no more freedom, no more prey. There would only be obedience and perpetual fighting. Fearow was the prey.

The same story, viewed from two different perspectives.


End file.
